The Jump
by IDontDance.Ever
Summary: One cloudy afternoon, Gwen Saunders jumped to her death. This story follows the POV of several people who were affected by the jump, and how their lives play out from it.
1. Gwen's Death

Disclaimer: Don't own Total Drama, or Mark Salling. Oh well...

* * *

><p>When Gwen stepped up to the bridge, the sky was filled with thick grey clouds, each holding a bucket of rain, each waiting to drop their load onto the roads below. People were walking down the footpath, cars driving down the streets. The voices ringing through her ears. She took a deep breath in, then let it out.<p>

Gwen peered over the railing. The water beneath was murky and choppy. One foot on the bottom of the rail, then another. She bent over further. The water still looked the same.

Another deep breath in, another deep breath out.

Gwen climbed up further, climbing over the rail, onto the ledge. Hands on the metal, leaning forward. The voices were getting louder now, more urgent. She couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take the noise.

One last deep breath in, and three, two, one…jump.

On the streets, people screamed. A teenage girl grabbed onto her boyfriend in fear, an old lady dropped her shopping in shock, and a small toddler grabbed onto his mother's legs, confused as to what had happened. The rain then fell, drenching them all.

Gwen heard and saw none of this, as the cool waters submerged her and carried her down into the deep

* * *

><p>Sad, but it does get better...slightly. And the chapters get longer, much longer.<p>

Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but it will be soon. And the first POV, for a treat, will be Duncan


	2. Duncan

_**Re-uploaded, dont remember the AN I put in before...**_

* * *

><p>Duncan<p>

The room was dimly lit, and the music sensual. Duncan stood in the middle, in his boxers, completely unaware of his surroundings, and completely not caring. A girl came into the light, her hair long and dark, her eyes green, and her tanned body clad in a deep blue bikini. She walked up to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Duncan wasted no time in bringing his lips to hers, and placed both hands on her hips, bringing them closer to his. A moan escaped from her mouth.

'_Duncan'_ she whispered breathily. Duncan moved his mouth down to her neck, biting on her pulse point.

'_Duncan' _she moaned again, this time a little louder. He moved his hands slowly up her back, towards her bra strap.

"DUNCAN!" A loud shout of his name made the curvaceous girl draw away from his head, and fade into his memories. He groggily opened his eyes to face his girlfriend in front of him, dressed in a Harvard sweater and loose grey track pants-not a deep blue bikini.

"What the hell do you want?" For fucks sake, it was too early for this.

"What do I want? I want you to get the hell of the couch and get showered. It's ten-thirty, and you promised me you would clean the balcony before lunch" Oh yeah, he did, didn't he? Still, too early.

"C'mon babe, 'nother half hour?" The look on her face said it all. He groaned, and pushed himself to a sitting position on the couch.

The couch? What the hell was he doing on the couch? Duncan turned to his girlfriend, who was now sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading the paper.

"Court, why am I on the couch?"

Courtney looked away from her paper. "Because that's where you fell asleep last night watching some black haired bimbo who thought she could sing parade herself around in a bikini" She looked back at the paper.

Right. The girl from the dream. Of course.

Duncan stood up slowly and steadily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He walked over to the kitchen table, wrapped his arms around Courtney, and said a 'love you' in her ear. He watched as a small smile grew across her face.

Dropping the 'I Love You'…works every time.

He retracted his arms from Courtney , and moved into the hall to the bathroom.

"Don't smoke in there" Courtney said, without looking away from the morning's news.

"Wasn't going to fucking smoke…" muttered Duncan. For ages now, she'd been bugging him to quit. He actually thinks he's been smoking more, because of the simple fact it ticks her off.

In the bathroom, Duncan slid the boxers off his body, and turned on the shower faucet. Under the hot water, he could wash away all his troubles, and just forget them, for about ten minutes or so. Sometimes, Duncan thought he lived for those ten minutes of forgetfulness. Good thing _to _live for.

Soap, shampoo, rinse on, rinse off. Turn off the shower, step out and dry yourself. Good routine, good system. One of the only things Duncan stuck to.

With a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, he wiped the fog off the mirror, and smothered his face in shaving cream. Duncan then carefully sculpted around his goatee, leaving just a tad of stubble. Courtney said she hated the way he shaved his face, but he knew she loved it.

A packet of Marlboro's sat on the side of the sink. Stuff it, he thought, and pulled a lighter out of the drawer to light one up. With nicotine slowly filling his system, Duncan truly knew his day had started. He could hear Courtney calling his name from the kitchen, but she could wait. The cigarettes should be the only thing on his mind right now.

When her voice became more urgent, with a small trace of fear in it, that's when Duncan ran his half-blown fag under the tap, and walked outside.

"Courtney, I swear to god if it's that spider again, I think I'm gonna lose it. For fucks sake, it's a huntsman. S'not gonna kill you"

"Duncan, just get the fuck over here now! This isn't about some bloody spider" Her voice wasn't her normal 'Courtney's freaked out' voice, it was more 'Courtney's really fucking scared and if you don't get over here soon something bad is going to happen'. And that was never a good voice to hear.

He saw her standing near the table, paper in her hands. When Duncan got close enough, she thrust it in his hands and pointed to one of the obituaries.

_This is written in the memory of a fine young girl, who was taken from us too early. Gwen Saunders died on the morning of…_wait just a freaking second.

_Gwen Saunders_

Gwen Saunders

Well, fuck him.

* * *

><p>Just like most stereotypical funerals, the sky was overcast as Duncan and Courtney stepped out of their car. Their bodies clad in Duncan's best black suit (hated it because it made him look too much like his dad) and Courtney's simple black dress (he knew she thought it made her look fat), they made their way over to the procession. Duncan had seen happier crowds.<p>

Gwen's parents were beneath themselves, both holding on to each other for support, which Duncan saw as slightly ironic, seeing as they barely talked to Gwen anymore, and when it was, it was only to criticise her, and ask her when she was going to get a real job instead of remaining an artist/photographer.

Bridgette and Geoff looked incredibly sad, and tears were running out of LeShawna's eyes-a sight Duncan never thought he would live to see. Lindsey, Gwen's model for her artworks and photos, was silently crying, dressed in a large, expensive looking black cloak the Duncan had guessed Gwen had bought for her, because Lindsey and her boyfriend were always short of money.

Trent looked the worst. His eyes were bloodshot, his suit unpressed, his black hair more shaggy than usual, and his face unshaved. Duncan ran a hand through his mohawk. It was weird to see a guy like this. Courtney walked up to Trent, and pulled him in for a hug, his body collapsing into silent sobs against hers, as she rubbed her hands in a soothing manner up and down his back. Was he jealous? He didn't know anymore.

When the ceremony started, Duncan became unaware of anything that was happening. All he could think of was, he was never going to see her again. Never going to hold her, never going to smell her hair (it always smelt like lavender, and she hated it), never going to talk to her, never again.

All Duncan could do was stand there, watching as Gwen's body was lowered into the ground. She shouldn't be going down there, he thought. She shouldn't be buried. She shouldn't be shut out from the sun.

She shouldn't have died.

"And now, the eulogy, if we will?" The priest's booming voice rang through Duncan's head, and brought him out of his reverie. He realised they were no longer outside, but sitting in a church. Courtney was not sitting next to him, she was still with Trent. Duncan tried to figure out why he wasn't mad about this. He couldn't.

Trent looked as if doing the eulogy was beyond him, sitting in the pews with his head in his hands, silently crying. It was always more sad when there was no noise to go with the tears. Duncan thought about volunteering, but what did he know about Gwen now days? Only talked to her, like, a few times a month. And that was when everyone was out together. He hadn't been alone with her in months.

Wasn't she his best friend? Didn't they do everything together? Or did that all change?

He could feel his hand rising against his will, when a clear voice shot through the silence like a bullet.

"I'll do it" To Duncan's (and pretty much everyone else in the church) surprise, Lindsey stood up and made her way to the front. The priest stepped to the side, blissfully unaware of the looks of shock on everyone's faces. At the pew, Lindsey cleared her throat, and began what Duncan thought would be possibly the worst eulogy in the history of the world. He wondered if Gwen would laugh if she saw this. She might have hated it, he wouldn't know.

"Gwen was my best friend" Lindsey stopped, looked down at her feet, then looked up again before continuing. "In fact, she was my only friend. She was the only person in the world to be nice to me, to be friendly, to give me compliments that were about my personality and not my looks, to think that I could actually be someone.

"I remember when I first met her, working at that old ladies clothes shop. She said I was beautiful. No one had ever called me that before, apart from my mother, who died, quite a while ago" Lindsey stopped again, ad took a deep breath. Maybe she did have just a little bit of intelligence, Duncan thought. Even if it was only a little bit.

"Gwen offered me a job as a model. She wanted to paint me, and take photos of me. I'd never felt this important before, this loved. It was, like, so…great. Just, being important. And not for being head cheerleader, because outside of high school, I found out that all that stuff, it just doesn't matter anymore. Gwen, she showed me all that. She showed me everything.

"And I'm here today, to do what were all here today for. To say goodbye to Gwen. Our best friend, our daughter, our girlfriend, our soulmate. So Gwen, goodbye, and I hope that God saved an extra nice place up for you in heaven, because I've been praying real hard for you" Lindsey stepped away from the pew and began to walk back down the aisle. Trent stopped her on her way, and squeezed her hand. Duncan could make out his mouth moving to form the words 'Thank you'.

He wasn't quite sure what to think of Lindsey's eulogy for Gwen, but he knew one thing for sure.

Gwen would have been touched.

* * *

><p>Outside the church, Duncan pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and brought it up to his lips. Nicotine ran through his system once more, except this time, they couldn't chase away the sadness. He could see Courtney walking up to him, and he expected for her to grab the cigarette out of his hand, and stamp it under her heel.<p>

What he was not expecting her to do was to take it from his hands, and bring it up to her own lips for a deep puff. Duncan stared at her in shock (and a little bit of pride), she just stated "You're not the only one getting depressed by this thing"

Geoff walked up to the pair, Bridgette under his arm. He nodded a hey to Duncan, and stopped and stared at the smoking Courtney.

"Didn't know you smoked, Court"

"I don't" was her dry reply. Duncan could see Geoff thinking this over through his head, before deciding it was too much to think over. Guy never was much of an over-thinker. Bridgette looked incredibly solemn, and non-talkative, which was a first. He always thought that girl could out-talk Oprah if she wanted to.

Yet here she was, standing under Geoff's arm, staring into space and not saying anything. It was creeping Duncan out.

"You feeling okay, Malibu?" Duncan asked, making an attempt at sincerity. Bridgette's head snapped up, and anger replaced despair on her face.

"Of course I'm not fucking okay, you dickhead. Gwen's dead, she's fucking dead and she's never coming back" She looked at all three of them, now with disbelief. "Don't any of you care? Don't any of you have fucking feelings? She's deaf, for god's sake!" Bridgette pushed Geoff's arm away, and ran away from her three shocked friends.

"I-I'd better go follow her…" Duncan watched as Geoff ran after his girlfriend. He wondered if his face looked as shocked as Courtney's, who looked like a five year old who'd just been told there was no such thing as Santa. The cigarette had fallen from her hand, and was now slowly puffing out on the ground.

"Now there's a first" He heard her say. Duncan couldn't help but agree with her. Who knew Bridge would swear like that? Heck, he didn't even think she knew such words existed, let alone pronounced.

"First Lindsey acting smart, then you smoking, and now Malibu has anger. What next, I wonder?" Duncan joked, although his voice was devoid of all humour. Courtney didn't respond, instead she seemed to be looking at the cigarette down on the ground in some kind of longing. He decided it was a good time for a conversation changer.

"You think Gwen would have liked the funeral? Didn't really think a church was her style"

"It's not" Duncan looked at her, confused, and she continued. "Trent told me her parents planned today out. He didn't have a say. Don't think he had the energy to fight them" She had a disapproving look on her face; Court never had liked Gwen's parents. He thinks it's because they had a chance to spend time with Gwen while she was still alive, and they barely ever did. Courtney never saw her parents anymore.

Duncan remembered a past conversation with Gwen from high school, back when they were each other's best (and only) friends. So many years ago, yet the memory was still fresh in his mind as if it were yesterday

*Duncan was pretty sure summers weren't meant to be this cold, wasn't it the season of heat, or some shit like that? Standing in the abandoned skate park, leather jacket tightly done up, he sighed and lit a cigarette, waiting for Gwen to turn up.

A tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see her, all short skirt and fishnets. He grinned at her, and she grinned right back. Seemed to be the only time Duncan smiled anymore, when he was with his friend. She held up a spray can, and his smile only grew larger.

The wall of the skate park was bare and grey, like a blank canvas. Duncan shook up the can, and artfully sprayed his trademark skull onto the cement. He handed it to Gwen, and she contemplated the wall, before moving the can across the wall, painting a message onto its surface.

"We are all prostitutes," Duncan read out. "Nice"

Gwen smiled. "Well, it's true. We _are _all prostitutes to our own minds. I sell myself to my thoughts all the time. Sometimes for quite a cheap price too" Duncan laughed, not quite sure if she was joking or not. Gwen was often strange like that.

"You hear about Mick's dad dying?" she asked. He had heard, and was sorry for the guy. Mick was always so bright and happy. Duncan would bet his favourite belt that he wouldn't be so bubbly when he returned to school.

"Yeah, I did. Mick must be in a mess" Duncan's own dad had died when he was little, and it had taken him ages to get through it. He still wasn't completely over him, and his mum's new boyfriend didn't exactly help the matter.

"Probably a church funeral…I'd hate to get buried in a church" Duncan turned to look at her.

"Thought you loved churches, you know, with all those fancy arches and shit you go gaga over"

"I love the architecture, not the beliefs. Trying to shove religion in people's faces, it's just wrong" Duncan didn't really see the difference, so he let it slide, and changed the subject.

"You heard Green Day's new album yet?"

* * *

><p>Back in present time, Gwen's words hit Duncan harder than they had that day.<p>

The last moment Gwen would have in her life (or at least, soon after her life had ended), was one that she would have hated. And for reasons that he didn't quite know, it made him sad for his friend.

"What type of funeral do you think Gwen would have liked?" he asked Courtney, who had been strangely silent. She thought this over before answering.

"I think she would have liked to be cremated. Gwen talked to me once about being part of the earth and the sky and the animals when she died, back into everything she loved. About being free once you're set free, not caged in a box" And strangely enough, that was where she was now.

Couldn't even do this last thing for her. What sort of a best friend was he?

Duncan was pushed to the side by a young man, who seemed to be racing away from the church, his eyes full of tears. Duncan yelled out a 'hey!' at him, and turned to Courtney.

"You know who that joker was?" The man's short frame and longish brown hair were unfamiliar to him.

Courtney shook her head. "He must know Gwen though…is that Marilyn? Excuse me, I'll be right back" Duncan watched Courtney quickly walk over to a woman, dressed in attire similar to Gwen's, and engage in a conversation to her. He recognised her as one of Gwen's friends, the ones she used to hang out with on the days he didn't show up to school (which, were quite a few). How Courtney knew her, he didn't know.

To tell the truth, he didn't know a lot about Courtney anyway. The details she had let slip on her life were few, and she never spoke of her teen years. Duncan remembered the first time he had met her, must be a few years back now, he realised.

After having dropped out of school at sixteen, Duncan had bummed around at home, until a fight between him and his mother's boyfriend (his mum had sided against him), which left him on the streets, with nothing but a duffel bag and his school backpack.

He had found his way to his Uncle Jack's bar and pizzeria, a few suburbs away from his mum's house. Old Jack wasn't happy when he heard that Duncan had left his mum (Jack had always cared for his old sister in law), but didn't push the matter. He offered Duncan an apartment above the bar, in return for his service as a waiter. While the prospect of waiting on people didn't appeal to Duncan in any way, a roof over his head was too much to pass off.

A few years of serving later, Courtney had walked into the restaurant just before opening time, clutching a resume in one hand, and a sign saying 'help wanted' in the other. It took Jack ten minutes to hire her, and Duncan fifteen to drop a (cheesy) pick-up line.

For some reason, her rejection only egged him on more. Was that normal? He didn't think so. There was something about her slightly stuck-up and bitchy personality that drew him in, like he could find a nicer person inside of her.

Over the next few weeks, Duncan had gotten to know Courtney (or, at least, as much as she let him know). They'd chat before and after closing time, and sometimes share a quick drink before they went their separate ways.

One afternoon, Duncan had come in to get the place ready for the customers, when he came across Courtney at one of the tables, crying her eyes out. He didn't know what to think, Duncan had thought Courtney never cried.

Yet, there she sat, looking more pathetic than a puppy that had just been kicked.

After asking her what was wrong, Courtney had told him that she had received a leave of notice on her flat, and she had to move out in the next two weeks.

Before he knew it, he was telling her that there was space in his apartment, and that his couch folded out. Duncan was surprised that he had said this.

He was even more surprised when Courtney accepted.

Two days later, he was helping her shift her stuff out of her (shitty) flat and into his (not so shitty) apartment. He'd attempted at cooking dinner, it was only half burnt, ad he was proud of himself. Courtney had agreed on a glass of wine with her charred lamb steak, and before he knew it, he was refilling both their glasses.

Courtney had told him how she was really bitchy in high school, and had glared at Duncan when he said she was bitchy now. Her glare had softened when he said 'only slightly bitchy'. Duncan told her about his dad dying when he was eight, which led to both of them knocking a few more glasses of wine back, in order to forget he let out such a thing.

After that, the night became a bit of a blur for Duncan, he never did know when to stop with the wine.

He had woken up the next morning with a massive hangover, and a naked Courtney sleeping on top of him. Needless to say, breakfast was awkward.

He made an attempt to make small conversation, in hope of breaking the tension.

"You go to Harvard?" he said with a mouthful of cereal, pointing at an oversized sweater Courtney was swearing. She had paused, spoon halfway to her mouth.

"No, but I wanted to" There was silence after that, in which Duncan realised he might have said the wrong thing. He tried to fix it.

"You know, I always thought you would be a virgin" Crap, he thought. Probably not the best thing to have said.

"You know, I always though you would be small in a particular department" To his relief, Courtney had joked off his comment (he wished not with what she said though). Duncan pulled a look of disbelief onto his face.

"Doesn't my attitude say 'He's packing'?" She laughed and shook her head.

"No, it says 'He's compensating'" Breakfast then became significantly less awkward.

A few years later, and Courtney was still in Duncan's apartment, never having made it to the fold-out couch. Duncan loved the brunette, and knew he would do anything for her. He didn't quite know why, but at the same time, didn't really care.

There was something he didn't get about this whole thing, why did Gwen kill herself? For someone who said she didn't want to be thought of as a stereotypical emo, Duncan thought she was doing a pretty damn bad job.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Duncan found himself back at church (a different one, near his old house He didn't think he could ever return to the one where the funeral was held) doing something he hadn't done in years-attending mass.<p>

He soon realised that there was a set time for mass in churches (what? It had been a while for him), and that four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon was definitely not it.

Still, there were always confessionals.

Duncan opened the door to the booth thingy (he had no idea what it was called), and sat in the chair. He cleared his throat and begun.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned" The person on the other side of the wall let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not a surprise" Duncan sat in confusion for a second, before his eyes opened wide in realisation.

"Brother Mike?" he asked, surprised to hear his voice. It had been years since he'd seen the guy; he'd been the only churchly figure to ever like Duncan. Big shock there, the only difference between the two was that Mike didn't have a mohawk. And probably wasn't regularly kicked out of the church.

"Duncan, it's been too long! Hey, you remember those cigarette breaks we used to take when old Father McKenzie was droning on?" Duncan did remember, those were the best memories he had of church.

"So, Dunc, why haven't I seen you round? You used to come in every Sunday"

"Correction: I was _dragged _in every Sunday. And I stopped, because I moved out. Ma's new hubby was a huge pain in my ass and by god if I was staying in the same house as that dickweed"

"And now you're back, because you sinned. What you do, rob a store or something?" Duncan sighed.

"No, not that. I…did wrong by a friend"

"What do you mean?" asked Mike, confused.

"You remember my friend Gwen?" Mike said yes. "Well, she died, and she didn't get the send-off she would have wanted, and…oh god, I'm meant to be her best friend Mike. Why couldn't I have done this one last thing for her? Why am I such a fucking screw up?" He groaned, and put his head in his hands.

"Duncan, you haven't done wrong by her. Gwen was a good kid, she lived a good life. I don't think she would have cared about her funeral, just as long as she knew people would at least turn up" Duncan could tell that Mike was lying to him, but he was thankful for it. At that moment, he thought he needed to be lied to.

"Thanks Mike"

"No probs, Duncan. Now, give yourself ten Hail Mary's, and get out of here before you summon the demons" Duncan forced himself to laugh, and stood up from his chair. Leaving the church, he wasn't sure if he felt better or worse.

On the way home in his car, for reasons he wasn't quite sure of (but he knew were good), he stopped by a jewellery store. If he couldn't make one girl in his life proud of him, he could at least try with the other.

Duncan attempted at making dinner that night, over cooked tortellini and Heinz tomato sauce. He lit the candles that they saved for blackouts and put out the good plates (the ones that weren't too chipped). Courtney sat across the table, and he watched as she talked, only half-listening.

"Trent says that someone's been putting huge wreaths on Gwen's grave, and he doesn't know who. Big wreaths too, really expensive ones. He's been asking around, seeing if anyone knows anything about it-are you listening to me?" Duncan shook his head, and gave her a small smile.

"Close your eyes" he said. She cocked an eyebrow up at him, but followed his words. Duncan pulled the box out of his pocket, opened it, and placed it next to the drinking glass half full of wine that sat in front of her plate. He took a deep breath.

"Open them" Courtney slowly opened her eyes, and looked down to her glass. Duncan could see her breath hitch as her eyes came to a stop on the ring. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign, or a bad sign.

"I-I know it's not much, I don't have a bucket load of cash to buy a nice one, and you may not like it, but I hope you do, and, uh, I love you, and I thought, you might like to, uh-"

"Duncan" Courtney cut off his 'speech' (he'd had it planned out much better in the car) and smiled at him. A shit-eating grin found its way onto his face, as he rushed out of his chair, and picked Courtney up, swinging her around in his arms.

"Du-un-can!" she laughed. "Put me down!" He shook his head, and buried his face in her hair.

"Never letting you go" Duncan hugged her for a few more moments, before placing her back on her feet. He picked the ring up from the table, and slid it on her finger.

The ring itself wasn't exactly spectacular-a simple gold bad with three small diamonds infused into it-but it was all he could afford. Courtney didn't seem to care, the grin on her face was bigger than Duncan had ever seen it.

The phone rang through their moment (Duncan now officially hated that phone), and Courtney walked into the kitchen to answer it, huge smile still on her face. Duncan retreated back to his seat, and pushed his fork through the pasta, his appetite having been replaced by happiness. Nothing could ruin how great he felt.

Suddenly, Courtney came rushing through into the kitchen, phone in hand. She stopped at the table, panic on her face.

"What's wrong" he asked, scared of the look on her face.

"It's Trent," she said, her voice shaky. "He's in the hospital"

Well, that might ruin it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>R&amp;R<em>**


	3. Courtney

_**I am so so sorry for how long this took to come out...full apology in AN at bottom**_

* * *

><p>Courtney hated emergency rooms. The smell of sickness and death, filled with distress and worry. Looking around the room at all the other people's faces, she was sure she wasn't alone in her hatred.<p>

Two hours. Two hours she had sat in that room, waiting for the doctor with the Hercule Poirot moustache to give her news on Trent. Frankly, she was fed up. It shouldn't take this long to check on a patient, it really shouldn't.

A tap on her shoulder brought her gaze away from the corridor that Poirot had disappeared down, and over to Duncan, who was holding a hot cup of coffee. She took it from him, and muttered a thanks. He plopped down next to her, and lazily slung an arm over her shoulder.

"You'd better drink it, that stuff gets cold fast" Courtney nodded at Duncan and took a small careful sip of the coffee. It tasted like absolute shit.

"This tastes like absolute shit" she said, a frown on her face. Some days, she missed the coffee from the café near her old house. A blend of Arabian and Moroccan beans, they kept her awake all day. She was pretty sure this particular caffeine stimulant was developed from stale beans bought cheap form Asia. Still, coffee was coffee. Courtney held her nose, and took another sip.

"Any news on Trent?" asked Duncan. Courtney shook her head.

"I'm still waiting on the doctor to come back. It really shouldn't take this long to check on one patient and come back. Any longer, and I will be filing a complaint" Duncan chuckled softly, and flexed him arm to bring her closer to him. He looked up at the hallway.

"Hey, is that him there?' Courtney looked to see Dr Poirot walking down the hall, clipboard in hand. She shrugged of Duncan's arm, and walked over to the doctor.

"Is he alright? Can we go see him?" She was sick of waiting in that room, absolutely sick of it.

"Yes, you can go in and see Mr Hudson now. I'll take you there, but you have to be quiet. He needs a lot of rest, only just come out of unconsciousness. I believe someone else is in there at the moment with him, a Miss Pearsons?" Courtney nodded. Good, Bridgette was there with him. At least Trent wasn't alone.

"Right this way" The doctor walked back down the hall, Courtney and Duncan in quick pace behind. He stopped at a door with the number 184 inscribed on it. Through the blinds, Courtney could make out Bridgette's form standing near a bed, and Trent's form lying in it. She pushed open the door, Duncan following her inside.

Trent was half sitting, half lying in the hospital bed, with his legs and part of his waist covered in a thin, light blue blanket. His eyes looked bloodshot, and his hair was ruffled. He looked even worse than when Courtney had seen him at the funeral.

"Oh Trent," she whispered. "What happened?" She walked over to his bedside, and his eyes moved away from her gaze. He seemed ashamed of something, and she repeated her question a little louder. Trent sighed before answering her.

"I got drunk. Incredibly drunk, completely off my face. I just…wanted to forget her, at least for a few hours. You know the feeling, how there's something you just want to wipe from your memory, but no matter how hard you try, it just doesn't go away" Courtney did know the feeling, she was very familiar with it. And Trent was right, it never did go away. "After god knows how many beers, her face was still in my memory. So I thought, if I couldn't get rid of her, I'd go and see her" Her head whipped up when she realised what Trent was talking about.

"Trent, you didn't…" His face scrunched up as he slowly nodded.

"I got in my car, and started to drive to the cemetery. I don't remember what happened after that, I don't even remember half the drive, or if I even made it to the cemetery. The next thing I remembered was waking up in here, and Bridgette was arguing with some nurse. The police came in, and they told me I had crashed into a telegraph pole, and I was lucky to be alive.

"The funny thing is, Court, I don't feel lucky. What if I had hit someone? I could have killed somebody, I could have killed myself" Courtney put a comforting hand on his shoulder. She hated seeing her friends in pain.

"You didn't though, Trent" said Bridgette. "You didn't kill anybody, and you didn't kill yourself. Don't beat yourself up over it, it's all going to be ok" Trent didn't look convinced by Bridgette's words, if anything, he looked more unsure. Courtney looked at Bridgette, and felt a sense that something was missing.

"Bridge, where's Geoff?"

"Geoff's on a call, he couldn't get away" Bridgette muttered something under her breath, which Courtney thought sounded suspiciously like 'Not like he wanted to anyway'.

"How big's the fire?" Duncan asked. Geoff was a fireman, and was often called away at all hours of the day. Courtney knew that this upset Bridgette, and she was forever worrying if Geoff would ever come home after a call. Quite often, Courtney thought it tore Bridgette apart.

"I have no idea, he never tells me anymore" Courtney and Duncan exchanged glances. It wasn't like Bridgette and Geoff to be fighting with each other.

"Court, what is that?" Courtney looked over to Trent, whose gaze was situated on her hand. The ring sparkled in the fluorescent lighting, capturing the looks of everyone in the small room.

"You two got engaged?" Trent looked from Courtney (who had a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on her face) and Duncan, surprised. "When did this happen?"

Courtney's voice seemed to have disappeared from her throat, so she was happy when Duncan answered for her.

"Bout a few hours ago. I bought the ring on the way home from church-Malibu, you alright? Looks like you're about to faint" Bridgette indeed looked as if she were about to faint, Courtney noticed. A huge smile made its way onto the blonde's face, before she pulled Courtney into a big hug and squealed.

"Oh my god, Courtney, I'm so happy for you! Ah, I just feel like screaming so much, this is fantastic! Oh, you have to let me throw a party for you, every girls gotta have an engagement party" Before Courtney could let Bridgette down slowly (she absolutely did not want an engagement party), a heavy knock came from the door. Duncan opened it to reveal a burly looking police officer, and Dr Poirot.

"I'm looking for a Mr Trent Hudson" said the policeman, his face blank. Trent sat up in his bed.

'Yeah, that's me. What's the problem?"

"I'm here to revoke your licence for dangerous driving, and driving under the influence" The policeman's face stayed blank, Courtney wondered if they trained to be able to do that.

She looked over at Trent, who sighed. "Guess it had to happen sometime" he said.

* * *

><p>An umbrella over her head, and high-heeled boots sploshing through the mud, Courtney strode through the gates of the cemetery. She held her head high, and tried to keep her face as blank as the policeman in the hospital wards was. It wasn't easy.<p>

The rain rebounded off the umbrella and splashed on her trousers. Courtney never could understand why people didn't like the rain, she loved it. The grey clouds that overhung in the sky, the smell of wet asphalt, being able to just stay in all day in front of a heater with a cup of soup…like heaven in a storm cloud.

Somewhere in the middle of the path, down a smaller, windier one, sat the grave of Gwen Saunders. A grey cut tombstone, with a small inscription and a swirly pattern weaving its way across the top. It was beautiful, so Gwen, Courtney had thought. Wreaths of flowers had been placed on the grave bed, arranged in a careful manner. She bent down to put her contribution on top (a bunch of deep purple flowers, with big heads and delicate petals), and took a quick look at the other flowers that were there.

Bridgette and Geoff had put down a large arrangement of daffodils, tied together with a blue ribbon. LeShawna had given her a bunch of red roses; the smell was intoxicating to Courtney. Lindsey had bought all she could afford for the grave, but had tried her best to make her gift last-a pot of daisy's sat next to Gwen's tombstone, contrasting against the dismal shade of grey. Trent had placed down a bunch of white tulips, with several sealed letters in a protective plastic casing. Courtney knew better than to open them.

The ones that intrigued her the most were the several large wreaths of lilies. These must have been the ones Trent was talking about, the flowers from the unknown friend. She took a look at the card attached to one of the wreaths. On it was a simple message, '_To my love, I will always miss you, and you will always stay with me in my heart and in my head'_. There was no signature, no way of knowing who it was.

Was Gwen having an affair? She couldn't be, thought Courtney. That wasn't like her at all, was it?

She looked at another one of the wreaths. The message on the card was exactly the same, short, but loving. Who was it?

Courtney stood up from the grave. The rain was dying down, the clouds dispersing slowly. Walking down the path, she wasn't sure what she would do next. Duncan was at Geoff's house, watching a footy game. She could go over there and talk to Bridgette, but Courtney knew that Bridgette's happy-go-lucky attitude would get to her today.

She needed to be with someone not so happy, someone slightly depressing. Anyone happy today would just piss her off.

And then it hit her. Marilyn. Courtney pulled her phone out of her pocket and called her old friend (speed dial set at no. 1, old habits die hard). After a few rings, a slightly raspy, yet smooth voice answered.

"Yeah, what do you want" Rude, and unfriendly. Courtney smirked, it was just what she needed.

"Marilyn, it's me"

"Prepface! What's up?"

"Do you want to meet me someplace to grab a cup of coffee? I feel like talking to you, it's been a few weeks" Courtney could hear rustling in the background. Knowing Marilyn, her phone call had probably woken her up. She started to move down the path to the cemetery gates, avoiding puddles as she walked.

"Yeah, sure. S'not like I have anything better to do. Normal place?" Marilyn yawned into the phone.

"As always" Courtney replied. The normal place for the two of them to meet up was a small coffee house near a Salvation Army store that sold the best hot chocolate in a twenty mile radius. She and Marilyn used to go there after working shifts at the Salvos.

"See ya there then" The dial tone rang through Courtney's ears-Marilyn never was one for goodbyes-and she placed the phone back in her pocket. She walked out the gates, stepped into her car, and drove off to the Lazy Sunday Afternoon Café.

Courtney pulled up at the curb outside the café. She moved out of her car, and walked up to the steps in front of the small building. The bell on the door chimed as she opened it, and she walked over to a small booth in front of the fireplace, making herself comfortable.

Ten minutes later, Marilyn trudged in, wearing a short black skirt with frayed edges, fishnet stockings, knee high red converses and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off that said 'Death to the Blondes'. Her hair was short, and dyed a shocking shade of pink. She waved to Courtney, and walked over to her. Moving into the booth across her, she smiled and said 'hey' to her old friend.

The whole shenanigan/tale/stuff-up story of how Marilyn and Courtney met began when Courtney was a sophomore at a prestigious high school.

Courtney's life was what many would describe as perfect. Her father had a high paying job, and her mother was a stay-home mum, who would cook, clean and pamper her children to their highest desires. She got some of the highest grades in her class, she was good looking, and she had the most fantastic boyfriend.

Alejandro Burromuerto was the perfect gentleman in Courtney's eyes. He would take her out to dates at fancy restaurants, buy her expensive gifts on special occasions, and he made her feel like she was the most important person in the world. He was her Al and she was his CeCe. Everything, especially him, in her life was, well, just great.

Courtney thinks that it all went downhill when she fell pregnant.

To this day, she doesn't quite know how it happened. She and Al had always been careful when they had sex, it was something the both of them agreed on. They were both careful with everything. But, nevertheless, Courtney still found herself in the bathroom one morning, scared beyond belief, clutching a stick that showed 'positive'.

It took her a week before she could pluck up the courage to tell Al. She expected him to be understanding and caring, to help her out in her time of need. After all, it was half is fault.

What she was not expecting was for him to immediately dump her, telling her it was her problem, not his, and it's not his fault that she got knocked up. Courtney had run home, crying her eyes out, too much in shock that her 'perfect' boyfriend had left her when she needed him the most. She had helped him so many times, why couldn't he help her?

In her bedroom, Courtney came to her senses. She was a strong, young woman, she didn't need his help with this. Many females have gone through pregnancies alone, she could manage. Looking down at her belly (which was slowly swelling), she decided to call her baby Jamie, a name which fitted both a boy and a girl.

Courtney didn't tell her parents about her pregnancy, and she wasn't sure what she was going to tell them. They didn't suspect anything yet, but Courtney worried more and more every day. If they found out she was pregnant…well, Courtney didn't even want to think about it.

One morning, in second period, (about 19 weeks into her pregnancy) Courtney started to feel nauseous. She asked her teacher for a pass, and went to the sickbay near the office. The school nurse told her to lie down on the cot and just have a rest. When Courtney went to the toilet, and found a large amount of blood in her underpants, that's when she yelled for someone to call an ambulance.

At the hospital, a doctor called Linda informed her that she had miscarried. In that moment, the whole world stopped. All Courtney could think about was, Jamie is dead. Jamie never got a chance to live.

When her mother arrived at the hospital, Courtney got no sympathy. Instead, she had gotten a slap across the face, and a hurtful comment ("You're no daughter of mine"). Call-me-Linda had seen this, and while Courtney was filling out forms to leave the dreaded hospital, she had slipped her a note.

"What's this?" Courtney had croaked, her voice gone from hours of crying.

"It's an address. If your parents kick you out, just go to that place. There's a woman who lives there that often takes teen girls without a home under her wing. Tell the lady Linda sent you" And with that, Call-me-Linda had squeezed Courtney's shoulder sympathetically and walked back down the corridor.

Back at home, Courtney had been greeted by a stony faced mother, who told her she had half an hour to pack her things and 'get off my property'. Moving slowly up the stairs, she could see her father sitting on the couch. He father had always been the nicer parent to her, the one who was forever there for her. She called out to him ("Daddy?"), trying to get a response to him, trying to get him to turn around one last time so she could see his face.

He didn't move. Courtney held back her tears as she walked up the rest of the stairs. In her bedroom, she grabbed her suitcase, duffel bag and Loius Vuitton, and began piling clothes and belongings into them. Taking one last look around her room, she stepped out of her door.

Her brother Benny was standing on the landing, looking at her disapprovingly. Ten years old, and was already turning into a clone of her parents. She shot him a glare, and walked down the stairs.

Her mother stood in the kitchen, watching the clock. She refused to turn to Courtney, refused to look at the failure she thought her daughter was.

"Goodbye Mummy" said Courtney, to no response. She sighed, and stepped out of the front door, down the stairs. In the front yard, she let the tears run down her face and the sobs erupt from her mouth. Courtney barely ever cried, and today, she thought more tears had dispersed themselves from her eyes than ever before.

Where would she go? What would she do? None of her family would ever talk to her again, and be damned if she was stepping back in that house to beg for their forgiveness. She did have some pride left within her, even if it was only a little.

Call-me-Linda's words back at the hospital rang a clear bell through Courtney's mind, and she fished the note out of her back pocket. The address written on it was about fifteen minutes away on the bus, and Courtney wasted no time walking to the terminal.

Sometime later, she had found herself outside a small, cosy looking house in a tiny neighbourhood. Gathering all of her courage, Courtney walked along the cobblestone path (not a leaf in sight), past the tidy garden and rang the doorbell.

A woman in her fifties opened the front door. She had a kind face that had been worn down over the years, a plump stance and a pale pink apron on. Courtney was reminded of her late grandmother.

"Can I help you, sweetie?" asked the lady, her face expressing worry.

"L-Linda sent me here, from the hospital, she said you could help me…my parents, they-they…." Courtney burst into tears before she could finish her sentence. She felt the woman envelope her into a hug, and the girl cried into her wool jumper.

"There there, it's all going to be alright, I'm not going to throw you out onto the street. Come on in, there's dinner on the table. You can tell me all about yourself while you eat" Courtney sniffed, and wiped some of the moisture from her eyes. "My name's Gloria, yours is…?"

"Courtney" she replied. Gloria smiled at her, and led her into the house.

Gloria's home was cosy and warm, with picture frames decorating the pale apricot walls, and thick, cream carpet covering the floors. Crochet rugs were lain across ever couch, and home-made pots sat on the tables. It was so unlike Courtney's old home, but felt so much more…comforting. Courtney's bags were left in the living room, as Gloria gently pulled her through the house.

In the kitchen (furnished from the 1970's) sat a small table, with a large vat of pumpkin soup sitting on top, and a punk girl lounging on a chair. Gloria pulled out a chair for Courtney, and she sat down, slightly uncomfortable under the stare of the girl sitting across from her.

"Marilyn…" Gloria spoke up. "…this is Courtney. She's coming to live with us for a while. Courtney, meet Marilyn"

Marilyn cocked her head up at Courtney and said, "Sup?" Courtney wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so she just muttered a hi, and stared down at her feet. Gloria spooned a bowl of soup out for Courtney, and placed it in front of her.

"So, Courtney…" she started, getting a serving for herself. "What brings you here?"

Over the next half an hour, Courtney shared her story with Marilyn and Gloria, and in turn, they shared theirs with her.

Gloria had been taking in young girls and giving them a second chance at life ever since her own daughter, Suzanne, had run off with a druggie after her husband had died. She felt to make up for her daughter going down the wrong path, she would help others from doing the same.

Marilyn had run away from home after she got into a fight with her mother and step-dad. "They found my stash of pot," she had said. "Was planning on quitting soon anyway, but still…lotta yelling over nothing"

After dinner (possibly one of the best meals Courtney had ever had), Gloria had led her to the room that she would be sharing with Marilyn. In the room, there were two beds, a large wardrobe that took up an entire wall, and a full length mirror. Barely any of the baby blue colouring of the walls could be seen, due to the fact that they were almost completely covered with heavy metal music posters, sketches and post-it notes with quotes and notes scribbled on them.

"I can take down some of the shit of the walls if you wanna hang up some of you own posters" Marilyn had said, leaning against the door frame. Courtney had shaken her head.

"It's okay, I don't mind the posters" She'd never heard of any of the bands before (Alesana? What was that?), but she didn't care. This was a new life, and she was open to new things.

The next day, Gloria had driven them both to a Salvation Army store, where she volunteered. Often, she would take girls there and employ them to work, earning them money to save up for their own places and give them experience in the workforce, to some degree. She pointed Courtney to a box of clothes, and told her to pick some out for herself.

"You need more things than you brought over in that bag of yours, and even though these may be out of style, they'll keep you from smelling"

In the box, Courtney pulled out a number of items that weren't too out of date, and managed to keep with her style. Under a horrible knitted vest, she found an old Harvard sweater. She had pulled it out, and hugged it to her chest.

"You seriously want that? Harvard's for total preps, and the colours? Boring" Marilyn's input didn't shake Courtney off the jumper, Harvard had been her dream college, and if she couldn't reach it, she could at least have an old sweater.

The next few weeks, Courtney worked shifts alongside Marilyn at the Salvos, and took lunch breaks with her at the Lazy Sunday Afternoon Café nearby. Dinner would be a (delicious) home-cooked meal, with the occasional order from the pizza shop down the road, and the television was always on every night (Courtney normally hardly ever watched TV, a thing for 'New Courtney). She and Marilyn would then depart for bed, turn the lights off after about an hour, and wake up in the morning to do the same thing all over again. The two were becoming good-if unlikely-friends.

Her life had order, but it wasn't stressful. It was…simple, something Courtney had never had before.

After a few years of living happily with Marilyn and Gloria, disaster struck through Courtney's life once more. One morning, while working at the store, Gloria had clutched at her chest. Courtney immediately went to her side, but the woman had passed it off as 'simple pains' and 'nothing to worry your pretty little head about'.

When Gloria collapsed to the floor, groaning, Courtney had called an ambulance, her hand shaking in fear as she dialled the numbers.

In the hospital ward, a young doctor with a sincere face had come into the corridor to tell Marilyn and Courtney that Gloria's heart attack had been fatal

At the funeral, both of them were lost for words. The only person in their lives that had helped them through their rough patches was gone. Gone, and she was never coming back. Courtney couldn't tell you how she coped with a second person leaving her life, because to tell the truth, she didn't know herself.

Gloria had left everything in her will to Courtney and Marilyn. The two girls together sold the house, split up the money, and went their separate ways. Courtney found herself a cosy (small and crappy) flat, with a job as a cashier at a supermarket, which she hated with a passion.

Two years later, Courtney found herself working in a pizza bar, alongside Duncan. She'd met Gwen through him, and to be honest, her opinion of her at first hadn't been the best. Gwen's sarcastic attitude had taken a while to grow on her, but when it did, the two became good friends. Not best friends, but good friends.

One evening, Courtney was working at the bar, when Gwen stepped in with a friend. She saw the couple walk over to Duncan, and watched as he showed them to a table.

When the girl Gwen was with turned around to sit down in her seat, all air disappeared from Courtney's system. It was Marilyn. She was here.

Courtney pulled out her notepad, and walked over to the table, her legs shaking slightly.

"Can I take you order?" she said when she reached the table. Marilyn looked up, and saw Courtney staring back at her.

"Prepface!" she exclaimed, and jumped out of her seat to give Courtney a big bear hug. When Courtney's shift ended two hours later, the two of them stayed back to talk things over, Courtney wished that they had never lost contact.

Sitting in the café now, she realised that Marilyn was probably the best friend she ever had.

She just wished Gwen had been around long enough to become her best friend too.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you wanna do for this wedding thing?"<p>

"Hmm?" Duncan's voice brought Courtney out of deep thought. Her meeting with Marilyn the previous day had stirred old memories in her head, and her two old housemates were all she could think about. The wedding, to her surprise, had been the last thing on her mind.

"The wedding? You wanna go all out for it, or do something small. Dunno 'bout you, but the less people see me in a monkey suit, the better" Courtney laughed, and Duncan mock scowled at her across the table. She pushed her bacon and eggs around with her fork for a few moments before answering.

"I think I want to go small. Really small, just the two of us"

"Sure there's no one you wanna invite? Like, any family? I don't really want to invite any of mine" Duncan hated his family, and Courtney knew it. She also knew that if invites did end up going out for their wedding, none of her immediate family would find any in their letterboxes.

"No, no family to invite…why are you bringing this up anyway? It's a bit early to be discussing wedding dates, don't you think?" she said, sipping down a glass of orange juice.

"Well, I, uh, I just don't wanna wait, you know? I don't want to waste any time, and-"Courtney cut him off.

"This is about Gwen isn't it?" Duncan looked down at his cornflakes and didn't reply. "Duncan, I'm not going to die anytime soon, we don't have to rush into anything" He still didn't look convinced, and he turned his face up to look at Courtney.

"Trent was going to propose to Gwen. He told me a week before she….he wanted to know how to do it, cause, you know, I'm meant to be her best friend and all" Duncan sighed. "I don't want that to happen to us, for it to all be too late. I want to make the best of what we have, before it all goes away, before it's all too late" Courtney looked at Duncan's sad face, sometimes she forgot he and Gwen were so close.

A sudden thought shot through her mind. She turned to Duncan and smiled.

"Pack a bag" she said, her voice confident. Duncan looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"Uh, why?" he asked. Courtney smirked.

"We're going to Vegas"

* * *

><p>Gwen's studio sat at the edge of town, a small way away from her apartment with Trent. Using her spare key (all of Gwen's closets friends had one), Courtney unlocked the door and slipped inside, wanting to get one last look around before she left in a few hours.<p>

Her photographs were all packed in boxes and albums, some of her better ones in envelopes, waiting to be sent off to magazines that would never receive them. Abstract paintings, all done by Gwen, hung off the walls and balanced against any space possible. These were the artworks that Gwen said never sold in any markets or stores. Gwen had called them failures at the time.

Courtney never told her, but she though that nothing Gwen ever painted was a failure.

The door opening behind her startled her, and she turned around quickly to see Trent walking slowly inside.

"Oh Trent," she said, breathing heavily. "You gave me a shock"

"Sorry…" he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. "…I didn't realise anyone would be here" Courtney suddenly felt like she was intruding on something.

"I can leave if you want me to…"

"No, it's cool" Trent replied. "I just, well, wanted to see this place again, maybe see if…" He trailed off, but Courtney knew what he was going to say.

"Maybe see if Gwen was still here?" Trent raised his head to face Courtney. "You know, sometimes, I think that if I squint hard enough, she'll be sitting at a table in the bar, waiting for a double cheese and extra pineapple pizza, with a diet-vanilla coke" Courtney walked over to Trent and put a hand on his shoulder.

"She's not coming back Trent. I'm really, really sorry, but she's not coming back" Trent sniffed, and pulled Courtney into a hug, before his body started shaking with sobs and his buried itself into her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Trent…"

* * *

><p>Duncan and Courtney collapsed on their king-sized bed in their hotel suite, fully dressed. They had run all the way from the small chapel to their hotel room, which was shaped like a large pyramid (when in Vegas…). After a few minutes of lying down on their backs, they both started laughing.<p>

"I can't believe we just did that!" said Courtney, her purple mini-dress bunched around her thighs, and her heels half-hanging off her feet. Duncan chuckled beside her, dressed in attire similar to Billie Joe Armstrong's, thin red tie and all.

"I can" he replied, and turned over to face his new wife. "I love you…" he said, stroking he cheek, his voice soft. Courtney smiled. This was so unlike Old Courtney, but New Courtney didn't give a shit.

"I love you too, Duncan"

* * *

><p>The next morning, Courtney pushed herself (grudgingly) out of bed, and pulled on a bathrobe hanging off a rack on the wall. Tying it up, she walked over to the phone, ready to dial a number she hadn't rung in a long number of years. She was scared, but she knew it was the right thing to do. They had to know, even if they didn't deserve it.<p>

The phone rang on the other end for about ten seconds, before it was answered by a middle-aged woman.

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end. An impatient and busy tone. Some things never changed. Courtney took a deep breath before answering.

"Hello mother"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Alright, apology starts now...<strong>_

_**Where I am, it's currently near the end of the first half of the year, and the amount of homework and tests we have been getting in phenomenal...plus, my muse decided to go on holidays a little earlier than planned, and when she returned she was being a bitch, so...**_

_**I'm not personally a fan of how this chapter turned out, I'm hoping the next one will be better (POV of Miss Lindsay), but hey! Tell me what you thought. Oh, and to anyone who may have noticed, I went over and edited Duncan's chapter, as while I was reading it, I spotted major errors (what I get for uploading late at night...). No major changes, just spelling and crap like that. **_

_**Now, to end this obnoxiously long AN, I recently got deviantart. My account is RedSunglasses (may link if bothered), and most of the stuff on here is there, mainly to get a wider audience. **_

_** (.com/)**_


	4. Lindsay

I know, I know, it's way overdue...but it's here now :)

**Disclaimer: **I dont own the Total Drama series or any of its characters or storylines. We good?

* * *

><p>Tyler sat on the couch, beer in hand, eyes focused on the TV. A football game was playing, and Lindsay knew that he wouldn't respond while watching it. Still, she called out to him, like she always did.<p>

"Tyler, I'm going out" She waited by the door with bated breath to see if he would talk back, say goodbye, or maybe, I love you.

He said nothing. Tyler remained on the couch, head pointed at the TV. It was like she wasn't even there. Sometimes, Lindsay wondered that if she left one day, he would even notice. And then she'd stop and scold herself. She couldn't leave her Ty, even if he didn't care anymore.

Lindsay sighed, and walked outside the door to their small flat. The door jammed behind her, and she had to give it an extra push to get it to close. If she had been living in a penthouse apartment like she and Tyler had always dreamed about, Lindsay bet the door wouldn't jam on her every freaking time.

She walked down the flights of stairs to the ground floor (the lift had been busted for months now), heels clacking on each of the steps. In the foyer, she waved a hi to the woman at the front desk, and pushed her way outside through the big front door.

Outside in the street, Lindsay pulled her coat tightly around her to block out the cold from the autumn wind. Yesterday, she'd managed to find a parking spot outside the block of flats. She was happy about this, because normally she had to park several streets away, and make the long trek back to the place she called home. Lindsay stepped into her car (a 1990 Toyota Camry that started wheezing after fifty miles) and turned the key in the ignition.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself in front of the cemetery. Lindsay pulled a basket out of the trunk of the car, which was permanently kept there, and walked through the gates, carefully avoiding the puddles and mud spots that had been left over after the last rain storm. The sun was shining now, but it had yet to evaporate the remaining water.

Inside the gates and down a winding path sat a grave with a marble tombstone, the name reading _Phillipa Matthews_. Lindsay removed an old picnic blanket from the basket, and laid it just behind the mound of grass. She sat down cross-legged on the rug, and stared at the headstone. A few minutes passed before she said a word.

"Hello, Nanna" said Lindsay, her voice cheerful. "I'm sorry it's been a while since I've come to see you, it's just been a bit hard these past few weeks. I've been looking for a new job, but I haven't found anything yet…you worked as a secretary, didn't you? That might not be a too hard job to do"

When Lindsay's grandmother was alive, she would always listen to what Lindsay had to say. Unlike almost every other person in the world, her grandmother had treated Lindsay like she was intelligent, like her words were worth listening to. The two of them would sit for hours, just talking amongst each other.

Phillipa Matthews had died seven years previously; her heart had failed one night while watching her soaps. Almost every week since, Lindsay had been making the trip to her gravesite, to try and continue the conversations that they once had. Her mother worried sometimes that Lindsay didn't realise that Phillipa was dead. Lindsay knew, it was just sometimes, she liked to pretend that her grandmother was still alive. It made everything feel better for a few minutes.

Lindsay pulled out a packet of flower food from the basket, and poured a small amount into the pot of daisies. Just like the one on Gwen's grave, Lindsay had decorated the pot surface herself. "I brought you some feed for your flowers…I remember you saying to me that potted flowers always mean more that cut ones, because they last longer. I didn't forget, and it's true, they do last longer than the ones you buy in bunches.

"Nanna, I do wish you were still alive, and that I could talk to you again. I know you're listening up from the heavens, like you used to tell me, but I wish you could talk back…I need your smartness, I'm having troubles" She took a deep breath before continuing. "Tyler and I aren't doing very well. He doesn't listen to me anymore, he doesn't pay me any attention, I don't even know if he loves me anymore…and I don't know what to do. I want my old Tyler back, but I don't think he ever will come back, Nanna" Lindsay looked up to the sky, clouds were forming over the treetops. Another hour and the rain would come.

"I have to leave now, Nanna…I love you, and I hope you're having lots of fun up in heaven. Tell God and old Mr Dahl I said hi" Lindsay blew a kiss at the gravestone, as she pulled herself up. Packing everything back into the basket, she quietly walked away from her grandmother's grave and back to the path, to take a different route.

Stepping down the path to Gwen's gravesite, she could see a short figure in the distance. Walking a little closer, she noticed that the figure was a man, who was placing a large wreath of lilies on Gwen's grave. Lindsay called out to him, trying to see who he was.

"Hey, do I know you?" she asked. Lindsay knew pretty much all of Gwen's friends, seeing most of them at the studio apartment where Gwen spent most of her time. This one however, she did not recognise.

The man looked up quickly, before quickly dropping the wreath on the grave and hurrying away as fast as he could. Lindsay was a little surprised; she only wanted to say hello.

"People can be so rude…" she muttered, walking over to where he had dumped the lilies. They were a nice bunch, not to mention expensive looking. Really expensive looking. Lindsay's pot of daisy's looked cheap and tacky next to them.

Nausea churned in Lindsay's stomach, and she could feel a surge of anger washing over her. She took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm down. Gwen had always helped her when her emotions just got too much for her to deal with.

With Gwen buried six-feet under in the grave, Lindsay knew that she wouldn't be getting much help from her old friend. She could feel the anger coming back up again, this time mixed with a hint of despair; she had to get out of the cemetery –immediately.

Taking one last glance at Gwen's grave, she hurried back down the path and out the gates, where her old car was waiting for her. Sitting in the front seat, Lindsay realised she couldn't go back home. Facing Tyler now would not be a smart thing to do, who knows what else would set off in her brain? Going back to the cemetery was also not an option. Lindsay needed to go somewhere where she could be happy, not sad.

And then it hit her. Gwen's studio. A place that was like a second home to Lindsay, where she always knew she'd be welcome. Turning the key in the ignition, the car's engine spluttered to a start, and Lindsay drove away from the cemetery, back down to the main road.

**/**

Lindsay pulled the spare key out from inside the pot plant that sat next to the door of Gwen's apartment. Unlocking the heavy door (that never jammed), she cautiously stepped inside the studio and took a look around. Everything was just how she remembered it. The boxes of photos and the paintings and the post-it notes of ideas and inspirations tacked to the walls, all were there. Only one thing was missing from the studio.

There was no Gwen. And it just didn't seem right to Lindsay without her.

Lindsay remembered the first time she and Gwen met, down at the second hand store in Peterson. She was folding skirts which she had donned 'ugly old lady sheets', when she heard a voice behind her.

"You're beautiful, did you know that?" Lindsay turned around to see a woman about her age, staring at her with some kind of admiration. Her clothes were kind of gothic/arty type, her hair was short and black with a streak of blue running through it, and Lindsay could see a small spot of paint on her face. An army green messenger bag hung around her shoulders, decorated with badges depicting bands and slogans. She was holding a denim jacket over her arm that Lindsay recognised from one of the racks.

"Um, thank-you, that's very nice of you, uh…sorry, I don't know your name" Lindsay had replied, a little confused. It had been a while since anyone had called her beautiful-Tyler had gone into his trance-like phase by then.

"I'm Gwen, and as I said before, you really are beautiful. This may seem forward, but I don't suppose you would be interested in modelling? Only my previous model decided to split on me" Gwen's face looked hopeful, but modelling for some fashion magazine was not something that Lindsay wanted to do. That had been an old dream of hers, a part of her life that she would rather leave behind.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not really interested in modelling for a magazine, new fashion's not really my thing anymore" That was a lie. Lindsay was still interested in fashion (old habits die hard), but she couldn't afford any of it anymore. Money had been tight between her and Tyler for a while now.

Gwen didn't seem to be put off by this.

"Oh, this isn't for a magazine or anything like that. It's more personal work-you know, paintings and art photographs. I pay more than the big fashion magazines do, and it's more classy, more for art that advertising the latest clothes by some guy who's name was obviously made up…it's not trashy at all" Looking at Gwen's face, Lindsay could see how hopeful she was. She just couldn't say no, and, after all, she did need the cash.

"I guess I could do a bit of modelling for you, if it's for the right reasons…" she said. Gwen's face lit up in joy, something Lindsay guessed didn't happen too often.

"Great! Just hang on a sec, I'll write you an address…I know I've got a pen in here somewhere" Gwen fished a pen out of the messenger bag around her shoulder, and wrote an address on a post-it note, then handed it to Lindsay. "Here, just drop by this place tomorrow around ten. Fifth floor, first door on the left from the elevator" Lindsay thanked Gwen and put the note in her handbag. Gwen started to walk away, when she seemed to remember something, and turned back to Lindsay.

"I don't think I caught your name," she said.

"Oh, it's Lindsay. Lindsay West" she replied. Gwen nodded in approval.

"Nice name" Gwen said, before walking away. Lindsay wasn't sure what to think of the whole thing, but she knew one thing for sure. With this new job, there would be no more folding ugly skirts.

The next morning, Lindsay and her car found themselves outside a block of flats in a small suburb. The place looked well-kept and reasonably middle-class, not filthy rich, not stinking poor. A good step up from the place that she shared with her boyfriend. She walked inside the big front doors, and rode up the elevator to the fifth floor.

The elevator rode smoothly up to the fifth floor, and the doors opened swiftly, another difference to her own home. Stepping out, she figured out which side was the left (it was hard for her to remember sometimes) and walked to Gwen's front door. Lindsay paused for a second, collecting her thoughts, before lightly rapping her knuckle against the wood.

"It's unlocked!" came a shout from inside. Lindsay cautiously opened the door, and walked inside the flat to see a whole art studio set up, with paintings all over the walls, a huge open window with a scene of suburbia on permanent view, a small bed with messy sheets in one of the corners and Gwen, perched in the middle on a bar stool, painting what seemed to be a pretty blonde girl surrounded by streaks of red.

Lindsay was astonished. "That's me" she said, her voice amazed. Gwen turned to look at her, amused. Lindsay felt a bit embarrassed, and tried to redeem herself. "Sorry…hi, nice to see you again"

Gwen laughed, her face pulling into a grin. "It's ok," she said. "I had an image in my mind of what you looked like from yesterday, and I wanted to capture it immediately. I wouldn't mind doing a few more paintings of you, this one's a little rushed, and I didn't have you here to check to see if I was doing your features right. It's not exactly my best work" Lindsay took a closer look at the painting Gwen was downgrading.

The painting depicted her standing in a field of white, wearing a dress of the blackest of blacks. One of her arms was resting on her shoulder, and the other on her hip, as if she was holding her body in a soothing manner. Her head was facing the ground, and the eyes were shaded and lidded, a spot of the blue in her iris visible. Streaks of many different shades of red swam across the painting, hugging Lindsay's body, and sweeping across the canvas. It was one of the most beautiful things Lindsay had ever seen-Gwen was so talented in her eyes.

"This is so beautiful," she said, her voice breathy. Never before had she seen someone capture her quite like this. It was almost like she was queen of the world in this painting, it made her feel special.

"You really think so?" said Gwen, scrunching up her face. "I think I have done better, but it doesn't look too bad, I guess. I did have a good model, after all" Gwen winked at Lindsay, and she blushed.

"Are you going to be doing more paintings of me today?" Lindsay asked. She would love to see another painting of her, especially if it would turn out better than the one in front of her.

"No, not today. Today, I wanted to take some photos" Gwen pulled herself off the stool, and walked over to a large wardrobe sitting in the corner of the room, next to a big white sheet hanging off the wall, motioning for Lindsay to follow. From there she pulled out heaps of dresses and clothes, all intended for Lindsay to model in.

For the next three hours, Lindsay was photographed in dress after dress, in pose after pose. Everything she wore was elegant and the poses were artistic. As Gwen clicked the camera again and again, Lindsay couldn't help thinking that this was a job she was born to do. Being the centre of attention after so many years, it was simply marvellous. And she loved every second of it.

After the shoot, Lindsay changed back into her clothes (which seemed tatty next to the beautiful dresses she had been wearing earlier), and she and Gwen went to lunch at a nearby café. They sat at a small table near the window, and made small talk while waiting for their coffees and cakes.

"So, how did you afford all that photo and art stuff, and all those pretty clothes" asked Lindsay.

"I sell a lot of my work online and at markets and art exhibitions. Plus, my partner's in a band. They're not really in the big time, but they do get quite a few gigs at places. It's mostly cover work, but they do write their own songs too" she replied, a small smile creeping onto her face at the mention of her partner.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" asked Gwen. Lindsay nodded, slightly un-eagerly

"Yeah, his name's Tyler. He's…uh, well, he's a good boyfriend, um…" Lindsay trailed off, not knowing what else to say. How do you tell someone that your husband doesn't care anymore?

A thin-waisted waitress brought their order to the table, and placed them down in front of Lindsay and Gwen, then walked off without saying a word. Gwen muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'crude glitch' under her breath while taking a sip of her coffee.

"Here Lindsay, the staff are rude, but the coffee is good. It's not a bad balance, you should try the carrot cake" She took a bite of the cake in front of her, before turning back to Lindsay. "Not meaning to pry, but what is the story between you and your boyfriend? You don't sound like the two of you are exactly living it up" Her face looked concerned, and Lindsay didn't have the heart to tell her to keep her nose out of it, just like she had to many others before. Instead, she pulled herself up straight, and tried to confine the tears to the backs of her eyes as she poured the tale of her life out to Gwen.

"Tyler and I first met in high school, freshman year. I wasn't the smartest student at the school, a lot of people used to tease me about it. Call me stupid, or dumb. I know a lot of blonde jokes, because people always used to tell me them. They thought I couldn't understand them…which I couldn't for a lot, but I got a few of them, and those ones hurt.

He was the first person to ever call me smart. We were in maths one day, and there was a question up on the board that was real hard, no one could get it. The teacher looked around the room to try and find a student to answer it. She stopped at me, and said 'Lindsay, do you know the answer? Would you like to come up and give it a try?'. I was about to shake my head, when a voice came from the back of the room.

'Why you asking her, Miss? It's Lindsay, she wouldn't know the answer if it was right in front of her face!'

The whole class started laughing at me, even the teacher was trying to hold back a smile when she was telling everyone to be quiet. The only boy who didn't laugh was the one who sat in the seat in front of me, just to the left. After class, he called out to me. He told me, 'Just for the record, I think you're pretty smart'. I said 'Really?', and he nodded before walking away.

I knew he was a footballer from the letterman jacket he used to always wear, so I joined the cheer squad, so he could notice me again. I know it's a bit stupid to do things just so a guy would notice you, but he was the only one to seem to like me for my personality, not just for my looks.

He asked me out, after the first game I cheered at. We drove to McDonalds in his truck, we listened to Kings of Leon the whole ride. I'd never heard them before, and I liked them, the music suited him. The two of us sang along to _Manhattan _on the way, it was so nice.

I always thought that McDonalds wasn't really a romantic place for a first date, but when I was there with Tyler, it was like, really romantic. I loved it. He bought, like, this huge meal with a cheeseburger and big fries, with nuggets and a giant coke…I just had a salad, calories and all. Cheerleaders couldn't afford to put on the kilos.

We had a lot of fun while we were there, he tried to make me eat some of his fries, and his face was really funny when he was eating some of my salad. I know McDonald's food isn't really good, but their salad's not bad. I guess he just didn't eat a lot of vegetables. On the play equipment outside, he got stuck in the tunnel slide, and I had to pull him out. It was so funny, all these five year olds were looking at us all annoyed…they probably just wanted to use the slide. Bet they thought we were real stupid, but we were just having fun.

Afterwards, he drove me home, this time playing Neon Trees. He walked me up to my door, and just before I went inside, he kissed me. And Gwen, it was so sweet ! I'd never been kissed before, unless you count Ezekiel from fourth grade, but I don't like to because he smelt kind of funny. He smiled afterwards and said 'Later, Linds'. That night in bed I stayed awake in bed for hours afterwards, just thinking about the nickname, the kiss, the date, and, well, the kiss again.

The next day, he picked me up from home and drove me to school in his truck. And before I knew it, we were dating. It was so awesome, Gwen, it was like hanging around with your best friend. Tyler was so nice, he always knew how to make me happy, I had the best time with him. I was his Linds, and he was my Ty.

We kept on dating through the years of high school, and because we didn't really want to break up with each other, we made this plan for our life, like what we would do after high school. Ty would get a scholarship for his football, and I would take up cheerleading in college. We would both graduate, and Ty would go on to play in the big league, and I'd take up modelling. We'd buy a huge penthouse apartment in California, and have two kids, who would be called Brittany and Jacob. Our life would be perfect, we would live like celebrities.

In senior year, two months before graduation, there was a huge football game, one of the biggest of the seasons. There was a scout there, one from this big college. The coach told Ty the scout was looking out for him, seeing what he could do. Ty was so excited, he kept telling me that this was his big break, this was the thing that would start our life plan. I was so happy for him, Gwen. I was so happy for _us_.

In the locker room, before the game, he kissed me, for good luck. 'This is it, Linds' he told me. 'This is our chance, our chance at making it big'. He was so sure he was going to get into the college, I was too.

Outside on the field, it was raining down heavily. I was worried, because Ty's a bit clumsy on wet surfaces, but he told me not to worry. 'The rain's just the tears of all of our future fans, Linds. They're crying cause they're happy for us. We're gonna make it, just you watch'. I still cheered real hard for Ty and the rest of the footballers, extra hard for Ty though.

At kick-off, everyone was screaming. Screaming for my team, screaming for the other team, I wasn't really paying attention. My eyes were on the quarterback, who was always fighting his way for the ball. I could see the scout from my seat on the cheerleader's bench. He looked happy at Ty's performance. And a good thing too, cause Ty was doing really well, scoring tries and tackling players.

It all went downhill at second half. I'd gone on for my half-time show, which was really hard to perform in the rain. We couldn't do the pyramid, the grass being slippery and all. Ty was on the field, running with the ball. He was so close to the goals, Gwen, so close. He was reaching out with one of his arms and running further and further. There must have been a slippery patch or a hole in the grass, because one second he was on his feet and the next he was lying on the grass.

It was like the whole world had gone quiet. Everyone stopped cheering, and all the players stopped running. It was ten seconds before someone called out 'Is he alright?'. I jumped up from the bench and I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life, the speed I was running to reach him.

He was just lying on the ground not moving. His leg was twisted underneath him and his eyes were fluttering. I called out his name and his eyes opened slowly. He didn't speak for about two minutes, and when he did all he could say was 'I'm so sorry, Linds'. A few of the players came over with the coach and they put Ty on the stretcher and carried him off the field. I didn't know then that it would be the last time he ever called me Linds.

A few hours later at the hospital, the nurse was telling him that it would be a while before he could play football again, and that it was very unlikely that he could play competitively, or get a scholarship to a college.

I watched his face fall when she told him this, Gwen. It was like every single emotion had left his mind, he was expressionless. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know if I _could _say anything that would make it all better.

'It'll be ok, Ty. We still have each other' He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, forcing a smile on his face.

'Sure it will be, Lindsay. We'll make it through this'

When Ty went back to school on a broken leg, we both knew we had to work hard to get marks in our classes. We were so sure that he was going to get that scholarship that we didn't have a back-up plan. We didn't think we needed one.

Our grades came in the mail one day, a few days before graduation. Neither of us had made it into college. A few months after graduation, we found ourselves in a small flat a few towns away. Tyler took a job as a waiter in a diner and I started work in a second hand store. We've been working there ever since, spending as little money as we can because the work doesn't pay very well and the rent gets expensive.

Ty started pulling more and more away from me. It was only really little things at first, the kisses would be shorter and he might not always say goodbye. It started getting worse and worse, and now I don't even think he realises I'm there most of the time. He spends all his spare time on the couch watching sport on the TV. I think he misses what he could have had, and I just don't know what to do anymore Gwen –I miss my Ty so much…"

Lindsay's face scrunched up and she fell forward on the table, her body shaking with sobs. She could feel a hand on her back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner.

"Hey, it's going to be ok, Lindsay. You don't need to cry over him" Lindsay sniffed and pulled herself up, drying her eyes with a serviette.

"I'm sorry, I just…I had a plan for my life, and nothing on it worked for me. I'm not where I wanted to be in high school, and I have a boyfriend who can't even look me in the face anymore. My life is ruined"

Gwen put her hand on Lindsay's shoulder. "Lindsay, from what I've learned, the universe doesn't give a shit about your plans, or anyone else's plans come to that. This world will fuck you over so bad sometimes, but you don't have to break down over it. You are _strong_, and you can make it through this. You just have to believe in yourself, and believe that you can make it through"

Lindsay smiled at Gwen and pulled her into a hug over the table. She had a feeling that Gwen was fast becoming her best friend.

**/**

The next day, she had resigned from the second hand store and begun the first step in what she considered her new life. Every weekday, she would model for Gwen and on the weekends, the two would go out shopping for new clothes to take photos of, or go around to the parks where Gwen would sketch the scenes around her and Lindsay would share stories about the cheerleaders at her old school (Gwen found it funny all the ways they tried to cut down their weight).

The fiddling of the doorknob to the studio brought Lindsay out of her flashback, and she turned around to see Justin, an artist friend of Gwen's, walking through the door. She'd seen Justin around

"Justin!" she said, smiling. "I haven't seen you in ages. How come you weren't at the funeral?" Lindsay embraced him into a hug and he answered when they broke apart.

"I was visiting my parents in New Zealand at the time, and I got a call about her death a week after it had happened. I only just got back two days ago" Lindsay noticed he looked really sad about the death of his friend –she knew Justin and Gwen had been pretty close. "I feel so bad about missing her funeral, kinda think I let her down there"

"Oh Justin, don't worry about it. I'm sure she would have known that you wanted to be there. She wouldn't be too upset" Justin seemed to be less sad about this. He looked up at Lindsay and smiled.

"I don't suppose you want to go for a coffee, do you?" Lindsay hesitated and Justin clicked his fingers. "Wait, you're still dating Tyler aren't you? Sorry, forget I said anything"

Lindsay looked at the guy standing in front of her (who was _incredibly _good looking) and thought of the guy back at home, sitting in front of the TV, body moulding to the couch. For once in her life, she felt like being the selfish one. Stuff everyone else; she was doing this for _her_.

"I'm not dating anyone at the moment. I'd love to go for coffee with you. Do you have a favourite place?" Justin beamed and looped his arm around hers.

"I do actually, there's a beautiful Italian place around the corner –their mocha's are to die for. Plus, they sell this skin cream there that does wonders for the pores. I'll buy you a tub, the results are simply marvellous" He walked the two of them out of the studio and Lindsay pulled the door shut behind them. *

It was after eight when Lindsay got home that evening. Tyler was still sitting down on the couch, this time with a box of pizza. It didn't even bother Lindsay that there wasn't a box for her –she had eaten earlier.

Justin and her had ended up spending four hours at the café, ordering small dishes and coffees and talking the whole time. Lindsay learnt that not only was Justin an excellent photographer, he was a professional model. The best part was, he seemed genuinely interested in Lindsay. It had been years since she got that kind of attention from a guy. She'd missed it.

At the end of their meeting/date, he'd kissed her on the cheek and handed her a napkin with his name on it, telling her they should do this again sometime. She'd found herself blushing.

Lindsay felt no guilt from this. Tyler obviously didn't care about her anymore and she was sick of being ignored. Was it so wrong to just want to be paid attention to?

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a text message from Trent. Flipping it open, she opened the text.

**Trent:** _U & Ty wanna come 2 pizza bar 2nite? Got big news :D_

**Lindsay: **_Sure il be there! dont think tys up 4 it tho_

**Trent: **_Cool. C U in 30m_

Closing her phone, she grabbed her bag off the table and yelled out to Tyler (for reasons unknown) that she was going out again. Tyler didn't seem to care about this and Lindsay tried to not let herself be fazed by it. She didn't have to care if he didn't, right?

At the bar, Trent, Bridgette, Geoff, LeShawna and Duncan were sitting at a table in the corner, pizza's covering the tablecloth. Lindsay waved to them and walked over, sitting herself down besides LeShawna.

"Hey Linds" said Trent, smiling at his friend. Lindsay thought that Trent was still looking pretty bad. Gwen's death had affected him the most, she was sure.

"Hi Trent! You said you had big news?"

"Yeah, I do, and you guys are going to be so proud of me for it. I can't believe it's really real, it's so good"

Duncan scoffed and flicked a bit of pepperoni at him. "How do we know if we're gonna be proud of you if you won't tell us what it is?" He turned to Lindsay. "Seriously, I've been trying to poke it out of him for the last ten minutes"

Trent pushed Duncan and told him to shut up. "I've been waiting for Lindsay, you pig. And it is good" He cleared his throat. "My band got offered a semi-permanent gig at the _House of Rock_. They want us playing there every Friday night for at least the next few months. I mean, this is such a huge opportunity for us –record producers go there! This could be our big break!"

He looked happier than Lindsay had seen him in ages, and she was so excited for him. "That's awesome Trent! I bet you and your band are going to be great"

LeShawna gave Trent a high five over the table. "Lindsay's right, this is great, Trent. I hope you're gonna be letting us come to your show, or believe me my brother, there's gonna be hell to pay" Trent laughed and nodded.

"Of course, LeShawna. You guys can have the best tables in the house to watch my band play on our first night. I really wouldn't want it any other way"

Duncan cleared his throat. "Speaking of news, Court and I got some good shit too" He turned around and yelled out into the bar. "Yo, waitress! Over here! I wanna tell them the news!" Lindsay could see Courtney across the bar stop in her tracks, and slowly turn around. She started walking over to their table, an angry expression on her face.

"Duncan," she said in a scarily low voice. "While _you _may have the night off tonight, others aren't so lucky. What the hell do you want?"

"Aww, you know you love me babe. I wanna tell them the _really _good news. You know, about Vegas" Courtney's face light up in recognition and a red blush rose on her cheeks.

"Well, as you guys know, Duncan and I were engaged, and last week, well, we decided to –" Geoff cut her off.

"Oh my god, you two got hitched in Vegas didn't you?" Courtney glared at him and Geoff shrunk in his seat.

"Yes, as Geoff so _wonderfully_ put, Duncan and I did get married. In Vegas. I'm sorry we didn't invite you guys, but we really wanted to get married and I don't think we could have waited any longer"

"Yeah, I really needed to get another ring on Princess' finger, just to drive the message home to all the other guys that this one's _mine_" Courtney giggled and playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

"Did you tell your mom, Court?" asked Bridgette. Courtney nodded, her hand resting on Duncan's shoulder.

"I did, we had a conversation about how my life has been since…since I left. She wants to meet me. I'm not so sure if I want to though. I'm going to have to think it over a little more"

"Sweetie, you do whatever you want, just as long as you're sure it's what you want to do. Remember, you can come talk to me anytime you want. I won't charge you for it" Lindsay nodded in agreement. LeShawna's job as a psychiatrist really came in handy when Lindsay needed someone to talk to earlier that year; she knew she'd be able to help Courtney as well.

"Thanks, Shawna, I know you've always got my back"

"Hey, no problem Shortie. You and Punkie get any photos while you were in Nevada? I've always wanted to see that city"

Duncan smirked. "Oh, we got pictures alright" Courtney smacked him over the head. "Ow, _easy _woman. You know I'm joking"

"The scary thing is, Dunc, I don't think she does" Geoff retorted, pulling himself off a slice of pizza. Duncan stuck his tongue out at him and Geoff laughed.

Watching them all joke around, Lindsay was glad she had found such great friends as these ones.

**/**

The next morning Lindsay woke up and pulled herself slowly out of bed, relishing in the fact that it was Sunday. Tyler was snoring into his pillow. Lindsay tried her best not to look at him and walked into the bathroom, in dire need of a shower and a shave.

After her shower, she went to the kitchen in her dressing gown and made herself the first coffee of the day (the first is _always _the best). Her phone buzzed on the table and Justin's name popped up on the screen. She grinned before flipping open her phone and pressing it to her ear.

"Hello..?" she said, her voice light. She heard a chuckle on the other end.

"Hey, beautiful. Just wondering how you were" Lindsay giggled.

"I'm fine, thank you. Are you good?"

"I'm good, yeah" Justin cleared his throat. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight? I know a wonderful Chinese restaurant that makes the best Mu Shu Pork"

Lindsay was on the verge of saying yes (she did love Chinese food after all, and Justin had been such a gentleman the other day) when she heard Tyler cough upstairs. All the happy memories she had had with him came rushing back. The dates at McDonalds. Sitting in his bedroom listening to rock music. Cheering for him at his games. Him holding her tight in his arms as they sit by the old lake, watching the sun set.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't cheat on Tyler again. She loved him too much, even if she wasn't sure if he loved her back.

"I-I'm so sorry Justin, I don't think I can do it" she stuttered.

"How come? Is something wrong?"

Lindsay sighed. "No, it's not that…I just…I can't right now. I'm really sorry, I feel like I've led you on"

"Hey, don't worry about it, it's fine. If you ever change your mind though, you know where I am"

"Thanks Justin" she said before hanging up. Lindsay put the phone on the table and walked back into her bedroom. She jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend, who turned over to face her.

"I love you, Ty" she said. He stared at her, his face sleepy and expressionless. It seemed like an eternity before he answered her.

"I love you too, Linds" he said, before pulling her into a hug. "I'm so sorry" he rasped. Lindsay couldn't remember the last time he told her he loved her. She didn't care.

Just as long as he held her in is arms like he used to, she knew that she was happy.

* * *

><p>I feel kind of bad for making Lindsay's ending not the happiest in the world...I promise, I'll make it up to her. Next chapter will be in the POV of Trent, and it's probably going to end in a cliffhanger. You have been warned.<p>

Please leave a review, they always make my day better, and you know they make you feel good inside ;)

-Dance


End file.
